


And We Meet Again

by AwFuckWhatDoIPutHere



Series: Immortal AU but only pain [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: BELLA PLZ DONT KILL ME, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I FINALLY GOT THIS DON, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, IT’S NOT VERY GOOD BUT I’LL EDIT TOMORROW, I’ll think of tags later goddammit, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Platonic Relationships, Sibling Bonding, Temporary Amnesia, Wilbro, Yes that’s a tag fuck you, immortal au, pog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwFuckWhatDoIPutHere/pseuds/AwFuckWhatDoIPutHere
Summary: So many years, so many lost memories. But the hands of fate are mischievous, and two people who’ve already lost all hope for their futures find themselves in a train coupé on a rainy November day, both grieving for something they’d lost long ago.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Immortal AU but only pain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172282
Comments: 27
Kudos: 121





	And We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellfort3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellfort3/gifts).



> BELLA DON’T KILL ME IT’S HERE NOW

Tommy was scrolling through his phone. Absentmindedly liking one picture after the other, letting the buzz in his head take over, ‘til it was all he felt.

He was leaning his head against the train’s window. Listening to the quiet brum of the giant machine gliding by beneath him. Feeling the wind through the window, howling quietly in his ears, and sensing every little water drop that hit the other side of the thin glass-pane.

It was funny. He always got this... buzzy feeling when he “switched.” Like his whole world had suddenly been turned upside down, (which, I mean, it had,) like everything he thought he knew was dripping out between his fingers, and he just couldn’t  quite ground himself in the real world yet.

It was in times like these where he would hook on to a particularly strong memory. One of his parents. Or maybe one of a girl he’d  really had a thing for once, before she’d moved on and gotten married to some guy in the suburbs, a couple of years ago. 

In the end, just... anything that would reassure him that,  yes, Tom, you’re really here. This isn’t just some endless coma. Your past is real, and it always has been. But now you’re here, and you’ll always be here. Whether you like it or not. So get moving.

But it wasn’t always that that worked. Was it?

Sometimes, the memories, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to them, kept flowing out his fingers like sand from a broken timeglass.

His parents’ faces, no matter how many pictures he found of them in old relatives houses, or in his old storage rooms, would blurr in his mind. No mum. No dad. Only faceless entities that would laugh and pat him on the back, but would never stick around for more than a few moments, before they fled back to whatever repressed part of his mind they had first come from.

His old friends. His old jobs. Even his old flames. They all melted together into the mess of old lives that occupied his thoughts and every living, breathing second he spent in this world, trying to move on.

It felt like all his old lives, all his old identities, were sand sculptures, and no matter how hard he tried, the sand was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Miserable, Tommy let his head bop against the soft train seat, and tried to fall asleep.

Sand .

Tommy opened his eyes, and slowly blinked at the fuzzy memory.

Sand.

There’d been something about sand, hadn’t there? 

An old inside joke, maybe?

Humor had changed a lot in just the time Tommy had been alive. Generation after generation, each more obscure than the former. It was hard to remember which “kind” he’d related to. Somewhere between 2008 and 2022. He didn’t know why exactly, it just struck a chord in him.

Either way, there was something about sand. He was sure of it.

He might have forgotten, then. If nothing had come to spur the memory, reaffirm it in his consciousness, then he might have forgotten all about that little persistent feeling, almost a memory, almost an instinct, yet not quite neither. Maybe it would have faded into obscurity, just like the rest of Tommy’s past experiences, and he could have started a new life in a new city, in a new country, and with a new identity.

But something  did happen to spur his memory. 

Because at the next station, when the train stopped and the doors opened, a new small batch of passengers went aboard the train. All of them heading south. Just like Tommy was.

And when the door to his coupé opened, Tommy quietly cracked an eye open from where he was leaning against his padded seat to look at the newcomer.

“Where are ya headin’?” 

He’d spent a couple of years in the U.S. before it’d gone to shit, and it’d allowed him to pick up an accent that masked his older, much more noticeable one.

The change had made it easier to detach himself when he finally came back to Europe.

The stranger, who was at least an inch or two taller than himself, was wearing a green overcoat that’d gone in and out of fashion more times than Tommy could count, and at this point he didn’t even know if the thing even came from the same century as himself.

The stranger had a short haircut, but with a hint of curls. And, even though the stranger was a brunet and he was very much  not , that made the stranger’s hair not  entirely unlike his own.

However, unlike Tommy, the stranger also actually looked like he knew how to take care of himself.

He was clean shaved, washed, and Tommy guessed that the man might even have brushed his teeth that very morning.

He was an attractive young man, too. Tommy could tell from just his side profile. A kind face, somewhere between twenty-four and thirty.

Looking at that face, Tommy remembered how he probably still looked like a big teenager. It was an unfortunate thing he’d never get the opportunity to grow out of, but with a little self-care, he’d perfected the “20-something bachelor with too much free time on his hands, whose parents had told him to get a job and buy a bigger apartment-“ for a few job interviews in the old cities he lived in. Self-improvement. Am I right fellas?

Thankfully, it also meant less people were afraid of him. Kinda weird, right? That people felt more comfortable around a dude that passed as a late teenager, rather than an old man in a teenager’s body.

All of those thoughts went through his head in the few seconds it took for the man to unhook the guitar case he had hanging from his shoulder, and put it on the floor next to his seat.

Tommy had still only seen him from the side.

It took the man a few more moments to pull his jacket off, and get seated in front of Tommy before he replied to the question.

“Towards the border. I’m actually traveling to Vie-“

Then, the man turned his head, and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

The man, who’d been leaning against the train seat, just like Tommy, suddenly seemed to melt forwards. Like his spine had given out, and Tommy quirked an eyebrow at him.

He didn’t know why, but the stranger’s doe-brown eyes felt weirdly  familiar .

A moment a two more passed, and Tommy wondered if the man had gone brain dead, or perhaps had had a spontaneous stroke before him.

The familiar stranger was still staring at him, mouth hanging open like a fish.

Then, he seemed to compose himself, and his mouth quirked into a wide grin.

“Tommy,”

Well, that’s definitely strange . Tommy thought. He hadn’t heard anyone use that nickname in decades.

More concernedly, he was fairly certain he hadn’t  told anyone about that nickname in decades either.

Still, he didn’t say anything. If anything, he was just happy that the old nickname had spurred something inside him. Leaving a little crack in the fog.

“Oh my- um. Hi Tommy. Holy shit man. I’m so glad you came back. I was worried about you.”

The stranger scooted over on his padded seat, seemingly trying to sit more comfortably, yet never stopping looking at Tommy, almost like he was afraid he’d disappear into thin air when he turned his head. Never stopping his giant grin, Tommy felt a little unnerved.

Ooooohkay . He thought. Maybe this was just a  little strange for his personal taste.

“I-I uhh... I could play you a song! I mean, If you want to. You liked my songs, right? Which one did you like the most?”

The man still had his wild stare as he reached for the guitar on the floor, and Tommy couldn’t help but awkwardly scooting backwards in his seat, just to put a few more centimeters between them.

Any spark of recognition he had gotten when he saw the man for the first time was overshadowed by the fact that  holy shit, this dude is actually insane , and Tommy determinedly felt like it would be a hundred and then percent better for him, ifhe simply walked out of the otherwise empty coupé, right here, right now, and leave this man to his own madness.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the most empathic thing he could do to a crazy man, but he barely had his  own grip on reality secured, and the last thing he needed right now was having to worry about someone else’s too.

As he thought about all of this, the man pulled out the guitar, and before Tommy knew what was happening, he was happily strumming away on the thin metal strings.

“Uhh... uhh... let me think...” The man hummed in bewilderment, and to Tommy’s surprise, actually shifted to look at the guitar instead of  him for a second, even if it looked like the man still kept him at the corner of his eye.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, yeah I got it now. I remember, this was your favorite song. Let me just tune the strings...”

Why the hell is he talking about me like I’m dead? Tommy thought. Of course,  he was , in the legal sense, very much not alive any longer. And he hadn’t been for many, many years.

But that didn’t make it any less creepy.

In fact, if the man actually  knew ...

No. He wouldn’t think about that. This guy was insane, and Tommy just had to figure out how he could go disassociate in another coupé without the man following him.

During his thinking, Tommy hadn’t noticed that the man had started singing.

“I think this time I’m dying.”

Tommy had zoomed back in in the middle of a song, and he could do nothing but stare awkwardly at the man as he played.

Maybe , he thought,  maybe if I wait it out, and then say I have to go to the bathroom or something. Maybe he’ll leave me alone.

At least he wasn’t staring at Tommy anymore.

“I’m not being melodramatic, I’m just pragmatic beyond any...

Reasoning,”

Not fitting , Tommy thought in spite. 

He really wanted to dislike this song. It’d been a long time since he’d heard any music he liked, and he’d memorized all the classics from his “supposed” youth a long time ago.

Of all the things I could have kept clear for all this time , he thought. Leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

But the song just... hit different. Somehow. Like the times he’d find a piano in a mall or shop, and he’d strum his heart’s desires out. He couldn’t place the feeling, he just knew it was pleasant.

...

He didn’t want to leave...

...

No , he said to himself.

No. No, he  had to leave.

Staying wasn’t an option. Fading out and losing more and more of himself in front of some  stranger wasn’t an option that Tommy would even  consider . That was personal shit. He didn’t need someone to ruin that for him.

If I just wait -

“You aren’t enjoying it.”

Tommy scurried back in his seat at the sudden voice. He hadn’t even noticed that the man had stopped playing. But now he fucked up, and here the brunet was, staring at him with dark, sadden eyes.

“You didn’t like the song, right?”

Tommy’s breath hitched. Did he know? There was no way, Tommy knew that. Realistically, he knew that there was no way this random guy knew his little secret. But he just couldn’t convince his body that they didn’t need to freak out.

“Do you wanna hear something else?”

Tommy was still staring at the man, who was  still staring back at him, even as he started strumming the guitar strings.

A familiar melody came from the strings.

“D’you remember this?” Suddenly, the man turned his head down again, and before Tommy knew what was going on, he was singing again.

“Life isn’t quite how I thought it’d be...” 

What the fuck.

“ When I was a kid on VOIP...”

And out of nowhere, it came to him.

“But he’s in your bed...”

The man snapped up, a brief look of confusion tainting his face.

For just a moment, it was like Tommy had hit a screw from his head. The man looked like a machine, processing the data he had just been handed over by the skinny teenager in front of him.

Then, his face lit up in a manic grin, and Tommy wondered if he’d made a mistake.

“And I’m in your twitch chat!”

Like a switch had been flipped, the man’s whole demeanor seemed to turn upside down.

Before, he’d sure looked happy, but there’d been a sad glint in his eye. The same one, that Tommy imagined he got whenever he thought back and relived and old life.

A deep sorrow, yellowed by the years that had flown by too quickly to count, but had instead left him a husk of a man, tainted by memories he couldn’t recall.

Now, the man’s grin reached from ear to ear.

“I’ve got the key and he’s just a doormat,”

Every word. The melody. The tune. It all sounded so  awfully familiar and Tommy couldn’t describe it.

“And even though, he’s got social skills-“

So awfully familiar...

Tommy felt his eyes get heavier for every note of the melody. Even with its otherwise upbeat energy. 

His back hunched over, and he leaned his forehead against the palm of his hand.

He felt so incredibly drowsy. Like he’d been awake for a year. Everything was going numb, and he  knew he shouldn’t fall asleep here, but it was hard to convince his mind the same.

Tommy let the old music enter his mind freely. And for the first time since the man stepped in, maybe even since his very first life, he felt calm again.

For a few minutes, everything felt like it just might work out for Tommy.

Then, the music stopped.

Tommy opened his eyes. Curious as to what had made the man stop. But all he saw was a face that was  way too close for his liking, and a hand that had abandoned a guitar in favor of reaching out and getting even  closer to him than previously mentioned.

Tommy’s eyes popped up. It wasn’t the worst jump scare he’d experienced, but it was definitely up there with the time he crashed his car, and the time he...

...

he couldn’t remember...

——

To be fair, Tommy didn’t  immediately jump up from his seat like a crazed animal. He didn’t even say anything. Even though he probably should have. Instead, his limbs locked up as he froze in fear.

The man’s face was a mix of worried excitement, visible in the corners of his mouth, and all the little muscles between eyes and mouth, pulling and stretching him into a stilt, that made him seem just a  little crazier than Tommy was comfortable with.

But that wasn’t the only thing. It took Tommy longer to find it, carefully hidden by a bright smile and twitching fingers. But the man could not hide from his eyes.

The eyes are the gateway directly to the soul . That was what he had learned after a miserably long century or two in this world. The eyes always betrayed the human.

And the man’s eyes were full of panic.

He looked like he was afraid, for every centimeter he moved his hand forwards, that Tommy would simply  dissolve in front of him. Turn into a pile of dust, and be carried away by the wind.

However, Tommy didn’t have time to react before the hand had already reached him, and quickly moved to cup his face where the chin met the ear.

The man sighed.

Tommy stared.

He didn’t like the music anymore.

“I...”

Tommy felt  very uncomfortable. 

Looking back, everything had been just  fine when the man had kept to  himself and played his music. At least Tommy had found  some enjoyment in that. He’d felt peaceful.

But now, the stranger was touching him and it was suddenly  very fucking hard to ignore that nobody had touched him for longer than he could possibly remember.

Tommy wanted nothing more than to get out of the train right in that moment.

He just couldn’t bring himself to push the hand away.

“Holy shit...”

The man’s eyes suddenly softened even more than they had already. He moved his hand from Tommy’s jaw to his hair, just above the ear, and softly scratched the spot. 

No...

The man’s look hadn’t  just softened. Because a moment later, a tear fell from his eye, and Tommy couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Tommy. Tommy. Holy shit. It’s actually you... you’re actually here. How are you actually here?”

And how hasn’t someone locked you in a mental hospital yet ?

But the man kept crying. Without sound or an explanation. And Tommy couldn’t stop himself from asking...

“Why?”

The man blinked, tears clearing up, and a confused look sliding over his face. But, to Tommy’s fright, didn’t remove the hand that still laid on his cheek.

“Why are you doing this?”

Instead of responding, the man’s confused look only became thicker, and he brushed his finger over Tommy’s cheek in a mindless action.

“ No.”

That was too much for Tommy. He didn’t want that warm, fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wanted the hand gone.

“Get that the  fuck away from me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

The man’s confusion only seemed to deepen. But, against all that Tommy had hoped for, he could distinctly make out a very strong feeling of  hurt too.

Oh nooooo .

You see, Tommy had lived through his fair share of years. He’d lived in plenty of big cities, new as old. He knew it when he saw a crazy person, he knew the different kinds of crazy people.

This one was what he liked to call a “keeper.”

“Tommy?”

Oh.

Oh, that wasn’t good.

Tommy might have forgotten a  lot  in these 70-90 years.

His family.

His friends.

His old home.

At some point, he’d even forgotten where he grew up.

But one thing that never disappeared was his  name .

And if this man knew his real, original name...

Tommy didn’t like to think about that.

He was stunned, and the man kept going.

“Tommy... it is you, right? You are the real Tommy?”

The man’s face was turning more and more frantic by the second, and Tommy couldn’t help but pity him.

A part of him, the part he’d lost and regained in this endless cycle of switching identities so many times, of breaking himself down, and building another  him up in his own place took its toll on the human body.

Sometimes, he felt like the man in front of him.

He felt like he had to reach out to every single thing he felt some sort of connection to, no matter how distant. He wanted that old sense of familiarity. Of a stableness in his life that wouldn’t just disappear out of his life, the next time he’d have to fake his death.

But if he knew my real name...

“Hey. Hey, Tommy. Look at me. Look me in the eyes.”

The man shifted his hands to Tommy’s own, and he couldn’t help but blink in surprise, even through the tears that suddenly felt like they were creeping out of his eyes.

This was... less intrusive than just a few seconds ago. But the man  was very much still touching him, even if it seemed kinder now.

“Hey, Tommy?” The man looked at him with big, doe-brown eyes, and something inside him cracked.

“You still know who I am, right? You do remember Wilbur Soot?”

“...”

“...Tommy?”

He shattered.

——

If  whatever happened before had felt familiar to Tommy, then this was like being thrown straight into his childhood home.

The feeling of sheer, unexplainable  recognition  pulsed through his body like blood, and it pounded against the edges of his skull like a migraine.

There was something that felt so painful about this sense of familiarity. Like the man wasn’t supposed to exist.

But the worst thing was that he  still couldn’t remember.

—-

He’d often fantasized about the day it would all come back.

It was inevitable. He knew that the human mind wasn’t made to live for as long as he had. He  knew  that his brain would soon begin blocking out all the “irrelevant” memories, like a kid’s earliest recollectionof childhood.

But he had always hoped that one day, the dam would break.

In his head, he’d imagined it like a big, eye-revealing moment, where he’d look up from his clutches hands and think  yes. I know who I am. I know where I’ve been. I remember everything that’s ever happened to me.

In reality, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Because he  knew  he could recognize this  Wilbur Soot.  He  knew that he’d seen him before. And he knew that the man expected recognition too.

But he just didn’t now  where .

Or  when.

Or  how .

What if the guy was someone important? A close friend? A family member? He felt that important.

Maybe Wilbur was someone from Berlin that Tommy had already forgotten. Someone who thought he was  dead .

But then  why  was Wilbur acting like he hadn’t seen him in a million years either?

Why did he observe him like he was afraid he would... dissapear into thin air?

“Tommy?”

Tommy didn’t know how, but he realized he’d leaned forward and buried his own hands in his hair.

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Tommy looked up.

“Hey.” The man whispered, a kind smile on his face, and Tommy felt as he moved his hands to bury itself in Tommy’s hair, gently ruffling dyed brown locks, and braiding them between his fingers.

“Hey, Tommy. Don’t cry.”

But he couldn’t help it.

“Why are you crying Tommy?” It was a whisper that escaped his lips. Full of a concern that laced his words like honey.

The man looked so genuinely afraid that Tommy couldn’t help but feel even worse.

Then, something glittered in the man’s eyes, and the movement in his hair stopped.

“Tommy?” He said.

“Do you know who I am?”

That was too much.

Too much to handle on a rainy November day, on an old train somewhere in Germany.

“I’m sorry sir, but could you please remove your hand?”

Without waiting for an answer, Tommy shot up from his train-seat. Using his hands as a push off from the soft blue fabric, and maneuvering his long, lanky feet around the guitar case that still sat on the floor where Wilbur had placed it.

“I’m sorry sir, but I have to leave now. My stop is next, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Wait!”

Tommy didn’t know  how the fuck the man did it, or how fast he moved. All he knew was that the guy had somehow  moved in front of him in less a split second, and was now blocking the only exit he had by spreading his arms out, like he was going in for a hug.

“Tommy. Please. Just wait and hear what I have to say.” The man seemed so desperate, and Tommy  almost wanted to stay.

“I’m sorry sir, but I don’t know you. I think you might have the wrong guy.”

Tommy was desperately trying to get around the man while refusing to look him in the eyes, but he couldn’t find an opening anywhere he searched.

“Nono, Tommy please,  please just listen to what I have to say.” Wilbur’s voice sounded endlessly desperate, but Tommy just pushed against him to get to the door.

“Get out of the way, or I’ll call the conductor. I don’t have time for this.”

“Tommy, for how long have you been alive?”

That set him aback.

“I’m... sorry sir?”

“Tommy I  mean it.”

Suddenly, there was a hand on his chin. A hand that was pushing his face upwards to meet the man’s own eyes.

God . Tommy couldn’t help but think.

Why is he so fucking tall .

For a moment, the thought managed to distract him. But then the man’s next words managed to hit him harder than the car he’d totaled on that highway in France.

“For  how many years, exactly, have you lived ?” There was a deadly serious tone in his voice, and Tommy felt overwhelmed.

“I...”

“Do you know that, Tommy?”

“Uhhh...”

“You have been alive for 94 years, seven months, and two weeks.” Wilbur said, in a voice so cold and dead that Tommy could barely recall who’d barely just cried as he cupped his face in his hands.

“How do you...”

“I know because I’ve counted  every single one since the day you died, Tommy. ”

...

“I-“

“Tommy. You have no  fucking idea  how many times I’ve prayed you would come back. You have no idea how much I’d wished you could have followed me in this endless life.”

Just a moment ago, the man had sounded so cold. But for every word, it was like his own mask was cracking. Like years of upbuilt grief and frustration had created a hole in his heart, and was now melting into sweet tears that trickled down his cheeks.

“So don’t you fucking  dare tell me you don’t know who I am. After all these years, my heart can’t take it. You know  I can’t take it.”

And then, he buried his hand in Tommy’s hair and pushed him against his chest. And Tommy could feel a warm, fluttering feeling bloom in his heart. A feeling that warmed the very end of his fingertips, and intertwined with the dread that had already settled in his stomach.

The two melted together to create something that was larger,  stronger than simply the dread of the unknown, coupled with the love of the familiar.

It was greater than any of that. Greater than just the two of them here. In a cold coupé, somewhere in Southern Germany.

“Wilbur... Soot?” Tommy felt his heart melt at that name. At all the bright,  crystal-clear  memories that it brought into his mind.

“I’m right here. I promise you, I am right here. You don’t have to worry anymore. I found you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Formatting might be fucked up but that’s tommorow-me's problem.
> 
> ——
> 
> *bangs pots and pans* We respect the boundaries of content creators in this household! If any of these people say that they are uncomfortable with these kinds of fics of their personas, I will take this down immediately!


End file.
